


Embers Begin to Form

by alwayssunnyprompts



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Camping, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mac has an Anxiety Disorder, Panic Attacks, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 10:06:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16931250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alwayssunnyprompts/pseuds/alwayssunnyprompts
Summary: "Sometimes he hates the hold that Dennis has over him. Sometimes he feels trapped in a one-sided relationship. But in the golden glow of the fire and under the deepening night sky, he feels whole. He could stay in this moment forever."Mac and Dennis go camping.





	Embers Begin to Form

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy!

"Are you sure this is a good idea?”

"Mac, shut up, okay? This is gonna be great. You know, it's good to get away from the city—the noise, the pollution, all the jackasses who think they're the center of the universe.”

"Dennis, have you ever actually been camping?” 

"Listen, you either have the camping spirit or you don't. And, baby, I have it. You don't need camping experience to know that. The skills come naturally.” 

Mac absently wonders when the skills will show up. 

They're standing in a clearing in the middle of the woods. It's just off the path that leads to the campgrounds, far enough that Dennis can pretend they're actually in the "wilderness," but close enough that Mac is confident they can get back to civilization if something goes wrong. 

Not that he thinks something will go wrong. 

It's more the fact that their track record as far as trips go is spotty, at best. Their attempt at a road trip was as hilarious as it was sad, and Mac was still angry over the incident in the woods. He supposes they just weren't built for this sort of life, but Dennis seems obsessed with proving that they can do it. That _he_ can do it. He doesn't include Mac in the equation often, and Mac is painfully aware. He just can't understand why Dennis pushes him away. He's tried everything to get through to him, but he's always ended up heartbroken. He hopes that this time will be different. That maybe if they break their streak of shitty vacations, they can break their streak of shitty communication. 

He takes a step and narrowly misses a tree branch that would have probably taken his eye out. His head clears. It's probably all just wishful thinking. It always is. He pushes the thoughts down as best he can. His heart only sinks a little; he's getting better at this. 

Dennis is walking around the makeshift perimeter of their campsite, looking quizzically at the ground, the trees, the tent, back at the trees—it makes Mac anxious. 

"Jesus, Dennis, will you stop pacing? It's driving me crazy.” 

Dennis's head perks up and he pauses, placing his hands on his hips defiantly.

"I'm sorry Mac, did you not want our camp to be expertly optimized for any situation?”

Mac fights the urge to roll his eyes so hard it's almost painful. 

"Dennis, it's getting late and you haven't even set up the tent yet.” 

"Mac, baby, this shit takes time. Cool down and let the master do his work." He smirks and resumes his unproductive pattern.

"Come on, dude, it looks like it might rain. I'm serious.”

"Oh, Christ. If you're so serious, why don't you make yourself useful instead of just standing around for me to wait on you hand and foot.” 

Mac feels quiet anger boiling in his blood.

"Okay.” 

Two hours later, Mac has set up ninety percent of their gear. The small camp stove, the fire pit, the food. The tent was a work-in-progress, mostly because Dennis insisted on doing it himself. Mac is subtly assisting, handing him a rod here and there, making a quiet recommendation every so often. The key was to make Dennis think he was doing it on his own. 

"Done!" He claps his hands together like he's just completed some magnificent work of art. 

Mac narrows his eyes. 

"Dennis don't you think it's a little small?" 

Dennis deflates, glances at the tent and back at Mac. 

"Why do you say that?"

"It's just that it's not quite as...roomy as I thought it would be."

"I mean, sleeping in close quarters is part of the camping experience, Mac...it's the closeness to nature that really—ah, shit, I can't do this. I've had it since we were in middle school. It, uh...seemed a lot bigger then." 

His eyes dart back and forth and patches of red grow on his cheeks. Mac feels the situation spiraling. 

"Well, you're the camping expert, Dennis. Besides, I'm sure it'll work out fine. It's supposed to be cold anyway, you know, sharing body heat wouldn't be so bad. In fact, it seems like your insight was pretty good." He smiles. 

He watches as Dennis slowly collects himself. There's a split-second smile of gratitude before he plasters on the smug look from earlier. 

“Of course it was.” 

The evening passes them by, blessedly uneventful. They eat shitty canned “camping food” that Dennis insisted on buying—Mac wonders why they couldn’t have just bought normal food. They roast marshmallows and get the melted mess all over their hands. Dennis seems disgusted by the texture and artificial sweetness, but part of Mac enjoys watching him lick it off his fingers. When their eyes meet, though, he can’t help but smile, and illuminated by the fire, the expression on Dennis’ face looks heavenly.

Mac forgets all of his reservations the instant Dennis smiles.

Sometimes he hates the hold that Dennis has over him. Sometimes he feels trapped in a one-sided relationship. But in the golden glow of the fire and under the deepening night sky, he feels whole. He could stay in this moment forever.

Dennis says something about heading to bed, and Mac thinks to protest. But he’s still completely enthralled with the beauty of those few seconds, so he nods absently and lets Dennis lead him into the tent. Their sleeping bags are touching, barely separated by the sliver of plastic tent-floor between them.

He lies down next to Dennis and closes his eyes. 

* * *

An explosion of thunder jolts him awake. 

He feels a swell of panic in his chest as the regret starts to set in. This was a mistake, a huge mistake. All of their stuff is outside. He should have never let Dennis talk him into this stupid trip, let his feelings, his longing for a weekend alone with him, blind him to how stupid the idea really was. Neither of them were prepared for this.  

The sleeping bag is cold and scratchy and the earth below them is solid and rough. He can feel the unevenness under his back and desperately tries to position himself in a way that won't wreak too much havoc on his spine. The discomfort leads to a wave of sadness washing over him. He shivers, wrapping his arms around himself. How can he feel so alone with Dennis right beside him? They're sleeping next to each other, like he's always wanted, yet the inch or two between their backs feels like miles, and he's suddenly so lost in his head that he starts to panic.

They're in the middle of nowhere. He’s in the middle of nowhere. And he can't escape because there's nowhere to run and he can't withdraw because there's nowhere to hide. He's trapped out in the open. He feels naked and suffocated and terrified. He can feel his limbs trembling, and a tiny cry escapes his throat. Shit. He can't cry. Not now. Not with Dennis right next to him—the thought is overwhelming. He tries to kick the sleeping bag off, but it's zipped too tight, he feels like he's wrapped in cling film and he can't breathe and everything is happening all at once. His vision darkens and he realizes he's hyperventilating. 

The rain starts pounding against the tent and his heart is pounding and everything is pounding and he needs to feel grounded or he's going to disappear. He can't wake Dennis because he can't move, he's locked in his body, and his brain is trying so hard to break through but it can't, he's not strong enough, he can't— 

"Mac?”

The voice is gentle and sleepy, slightly confused, but alert. The storm must have woken him up. 

Mac feels a sickening mix of adrenaline and relief. His head spins and he feels like he's going to be sick. _How is he going to explain this?_

He still can't move. The only noises he's capable of making through the shallow breaths are tiny and pathetic. His hands grasp convulsively at the sleeping bag. He tries to open his eyes but he's screwed them shut.

"Mac?" He whispers again, a little more urgently. "Hey…" 

Softness colors his tone and he lays a hesitant hand on the small of Mac's back. He must be able to feel the trembling now, if he couldn’t before. Mac feels pathetic, but he can't stop. 

"What is it? The storm?”

His hand is moving, stroking up and down his back so gently and so carefully that Mac wants to scream. _What is it?_

He's gasping, trying to get words to come out, but he doesn't even know what he wants to say. He can't tell the truth. He can't. He doesn't even know what the truth is. Is he scared of the storm? Scared of being alone? Scared of Dennis? He wants to know. He wants to wake up. 

But he's so far gone and it's so dark and the storm is so loud. The rain won't stop, each clap of thunder sends a spike of adrenaline through his body. He tries to focus on Dennis. Just Dennis and his hand and his raspy voice. The idea that Dennis knows something is wrong. Knows him. He wants to be known. He needs to be. 

"Shit," Dennis murmurs. He moves closer to Mac, lies right up against him and keeps stroking his back. 

His voice barely registers. The contact is overwhelming. 

"Den," Mac chokes out. It barely sounds like a word.   

"There you are. Come on, come back. You can do it," he coaxes. Any attitude from earlier is gone. 

"I'm here. You're here. In this tiny, shitty tent. In the middle of the woods. It's probably three in the morning. I know you feel terrible, but I'm here, and nothing is going to happen to you.” 

He lets himself focus on Dennis's voice, try to climb his way out of the hole he's fallen into. 

He blinks and the world comes into focus. The dim glow from the night lamp in the corner of the tent, knocked over and hidden behind a blanket. The plastic of the floor, the cold air. Dennis's warmth behind him, hands touching him protectively. 

His head feels like it's filled with static. He dissolves into tears, gasping and gulping through guttural cries. He can feel himself coming back, and he hurts. His muscles are aching horribly, tense and immobile, his eyes and jaw are sore from clenching, he can't quite feel his hands yet. The sobbing tears through him, exhausting and uncontrollable. 

"The worst part is over, I promise," Dennis sighs and gathers him in his arms. "Shh," he rocks Mac for a couple seconds. "You're okay.” 

"Dennis," he whispers. _Why is it so hard to say his name?_

“Yeah, I'm here.” 

"You're here," he echoes quietly. 

Dennis squeezes him tight for a second, letting his head droop against Mac's neck as he holds him.

His breath is even and warm. 

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to submit prompts at alwayssunnyprompts.tumblr.com


End file.
